


do you feel like a monster?

by foxaquinn



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, crowe's in a state, croweverse, nothing massive, slight s4 spoilers, slight s5 spoilers, transcript fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxaquinn/pseuds/foxaquinn
Summary: MARTIN...At least he’s not looking at us.JONOh, believe me, he is.MARTINWhat?JONYou’ll see.+Statement of Crowe Feather, extracted by Jonathan Sims, the Archive.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	do you feel like a monster?

(Tape clicks on. There is nothing but the sound of steady footsteps crunching on dead leaves.)

MARTIN  
...Hey Jon?

JON  
What?

MARTIN  
Do you know if… Crowe’s alright?

JON  
I mean… yes. But I think it’s pretty obvious.

MARTIN  
Well, I mean, yes, but - is he… is he feeling OK? Like, do we need to… get him out of this weird “tour guide for the apocalypse” thing?

JON  
…

MARTIN  
Jon.

JON  
I… um…

(The footsteps stop.)

MARTIN  
Jon, tell me.

JON  
I don’t know.

MARTIN (annoyed)  
Yes, you do.

JON (insistently)  
I don’t want to, Martin. I don’t… I don’t know what I would do if he…

MARTIN  
Yeah, I mean, I - I get that. But we should still make sure, shouldn’t we? For his sake?

JON  
I suppose you’re right. I could try asking him, but I don’t think that would work.

MARTIN  
Why not?

JON  
He can’t - he’s not supposed to speak, not anymore. He’s only meant to watch, to know. The Eye isn’t… the Eye isn’t letting him do anything else.

MARTIN  
Wait, so why is it letting him… guide us?

JON  
I… (static, then Jon chuckles) He found a loophole.

MARTIN  
What does that mean?

JON  
In some way, his guiding us is giving us information, something which the Eye does approve of. Not to mention, it’s… enabling my… statement giving. He’s still feeding the Eye, just - in a way that benefits us. It’s all very Crowe.

MARTIN (with a slight smile on his voice)  
Yeah, I - yeah, I guess it is.

JON  
...I can… I can take his statement, though. If you’d want to hear it.

MARTIN  
I’m… I'm honestly not sure? I mean - I do want to know if we need to get him out of that, but I don't... I'm not sure I could handle details.

JON  
That’s understandable.

(A moment’s silence. The footsteps resume, then stop again.)

MARTIN  
He’s… not moving.

JON  
…

He wants to speak.

MARTIN  
Wait, really? I thought you said -

JON  
No, not like that, I mean - through me. He wants to give a statement.

MARTIN  
…oh. Well… I guess we’ve got no choice, then.

JON  
_I’ve_ got no choice. You can… plug your ears, if you’d like.

MARTIN  
No, I… might as well. He probably wants me to hear it as well.

JON  
...yeah. Yeah, he does.

MARTIN (slightly strained, leaves crunching under him)  
Well, I guess let’s settle in.

...are you gonna sit down?

JON  
Just… yeah. (leaves rustle and crunch)

(footsteps, slow and steady, coming closer and closer until they stop, and someone, presumably Crowe, sits down)

MARTIN  
...At least he’s not looking at us.

JON  
Oh, believe me, he is.

MARTIN  
What?

JON  
You’ll see. 

(takes a breath)

(static)

(breath hitches)

THE ARCHIVIST  
I…

Hi.

If I’m being honest, some part of me thought this wouldn’t work, even though - I knew it would. I mean, I _knew_ it would. And I still doubted it.

Why did I - why did I want to do this? Just to... talk to you both, I guess. I...

I don’t actually know what to talk about. ...You wanted to know how I am, right? That’s probably a good place to start.

I don’t actually know how I am. Ha! How funny is that? I’m supposed to be a fucking avatar of knowing and I don’t know how I am. ...Guess I could just lie like everyone does, say I’m fine. But you’d know when I was lying, obviously, and you’d probably just tell Martin anyway.

Honestly, I wish you could tell me. I wish you could ask me because it’d probably be easier than trying to dig it up myself when I’ve barely had time to figure out whether I’m even alive or dead.

Another thing I don’t know. I try to reach for an answer, find out like I do everything else these days, and it’s just - not there. It’s a void. Like a blank space left on a form. I suppose that means I’m neither alive, nor dead. Just like… everything else, honestly. I’m not sure death has much meaning anymore.

But you aren’t here to listen to me wax poetic about the state of the world. Jon’s got that pretty covered. You’re here to listen to my statement. Listen to... how I'm doing.

...Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? Always a good place to start.

(A pause. The wind howls distantly.)

It wasn’t immediate, you know.

You remember, Martin, that my eyes were not like they are now as things began to fall apart. As we ran back to that little cottage we tried and failed to call home for two weeks - our little vignette of domesticity, an illusion of a life we’ve always been doomed to be deprived of - scared like we’d never been scared before. Praying we would make it back in time - praying to a God that we both know either doesn’t exist or doesn’t care.

I knew. I knew without my own permission that this was the beginning of the end, but I tried not to listen.

By the time we got there, saw Jon on the floor, I hadn’t actually looked up yet. I hadn’t let myself - maybe something in me also knew what would happen if I did and was trying to fight it for as long as possible. 

Instinct won out, though. I had to look. I had to see. 

I had to know.

So I looked out the window. And I couldn’t stop looking.

I don’t even remember picking up my deck, but it was in my hands, and I was shuffling it. My fingers seemed to move faster than I could comprehend, performing some intricate dance I’ve never known the steps to but could always perform. I pulled a card.

That was the first time I began to see what else was happening.

It’s not just... seeing though, it’s living. It’s like being placed into the starring role of someone else’s nightmare, merging into them and becoming them and watching them all at once. I consume every part of their experience - their vision, their touch, their adrenaline, especially their fear - like a feast placed in front of a starving man. And I was starving. I was depriving myself of it all, trying to be good, trying not to hurt anyone because it was the last shred of decency I could cling to. But I have no control anymore. I am simply a hungry animal in a forest of prey with no other instincts but to feed myself.

It’s not that I don’t feel guilty for it. The single tattered piece of humanity I have left will periodically hit me with a wave of grief for everyone I know I’ve hurt, but it’s not enough to break to spell. I just sit with it until it gets consumed by the next horror I need to satisfy the growl of hunger in my soul that never seems to go away.

This journey, with you, I cling to it. It’s the only thing I have left, y'know. You are the only thing I have left.

You know how I used to say we weren’t monsters? Do you remember those nights, when I would try to soothe whatever hatred you bred for yourself with kind words and a hopeful outlook, hoping it was enough for you to forget, just for a night, just so I could have you to myself for a little while, just so I didn’t have to watch you crumble under the weight of a world you didn’t ask to hold?

I don’t believe that. Not anymore.

I don’t know how I could be human like this. A walking beacon of fear and terror and everything awful that has ever been, fueled by the fire of other people’s nightmares. No human looks like this, no human has eyes that open like fresh wounds on their body every single day, eyes unable to close, unable to look away from everything, even when blinded under layers and layers of clothing piled on to try and hide the horror of the reality underneath. I am not human.

You asked how I feel. Do you want to know how I feel?

Because I think I know now.

I feel like a monster.

And it feels right.

(silence)

CROWE  
(quiet sobbing)

MARTIN  
Crowe, I…

JON  
...we… we should…

(leaves rustling, then footsteps walking away)

MARTIN  
I guess we should… follow him.

JON  
...yes. Yes, we should.

(tape clicks off)

**Author's Note:**

> WELL THAT WAS A FIC
> 
> this was so much fun to write!! i love writing horror man...........tma is so much fun to write for
> 
> -
> 
> 9/10/2020: edited bc there was a few things that bothered me! also my tumblr is now augustburning ;D


End file.
